Freedom from Struggle

Peyton (middle) works in the kitchen at base camp. In her free time, she enjoys swimming in the inlet and playing monopoly deal. She is currently attending SDSU in California for biology. Peyton is passionate about Jesus, In-N-Out Burger, and the ocean. 

Sometimes it is important to be in a place not shaped by the hands of humans, somewhere where it doesn’t matter if you’re barefoot because your shoes hurt too much, and a place that doesn’t respond to the command of a light switch. It is important to be humbled and to realize how human we are. I am grateful for Beyond because it makes me celebrate simple things like hot coffee in the morning, loud singing during dish duty, community, worship, and pure silliness. Base camp has become home, but my week in the mountains climbing JJ taught me a whole new meaning of trusting God and truly relying on His strength. 

During the majority of our time ascending, we were in a whiteout. We were cold, wet, and anxious. As difficult as the weather was, I felt that it was very fitting for our group. Although we could not see the beauty beyond the clouds, we all knew that it was there. The same concept works in regards to our walks with Jesus; we may not be able to see him, but we know he is always there. All we have to do is invite Him in.

On our summit day, the clouds opened up and the sun came out for the first time. I have never witnessed anything so beautiful. That moment of sun on the summit made me realize that God had a plan for our group. His plan was for us to realize that it is okay to struggle, it is okay for things not to be perfect, and it is okay not to have any idea where you are at or where you are going.

The whole JJ group before leaving for the trail

Before going on this trip, I had a lot of fear. I am a “lupie”, meaning I have lupus along with my autoimmune disease; mixed connective tissue disorder, and arthritis. I am told I can’t do things pretty often, and I let a lot of those negative comments pull me down. Even in the midst of these physical struggles, I felt God tugging at my heart telling me this was something I needed to do.

The strength God gave me throughout this trip made me reevaluate how I place my identity in Him. The feeling of conquering that mountain with the Lord was far more empowering than nursing my wounds and clinging to my pain all the time. There is something about the outdoors that fuels my soul, my spirit, and my overall well-being. I was forced to lean on the Lord when I was uncomfortable in the whiteout, and the way He met me was with this beautiful mountain experience I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

-Peyton Cook 

Thoughts from the Pack Shack

Madi Krueger works in the pack shack at base camp. She spends her days meticulously measuring ingredients for trip meals, making sure that each camper, leader, and guide who goes into the mountains has enough food to conquer the trails. Madi is a senior at Western Washington University and is studying journalism. While here at base camp, she loves playing her ukelele named Whimsy, spending time on the dock, and reading through the Harry Potter series for the first time.

It’s funny how my priorities have changed since arriving here at Beyond. Objects that once used to be strapped to my body or mind have taken flight from my thoughts and now wither in the cobwebbed corners of my mind. My phone currently sits at the bottom of my backpack, lifeless and untouched for days. I only use it to read downloaded sheet music for my ukulele, which gets a lot more action since I’ve gotten in the habit of worship on the dock or subtle strumming with the sunset. The makeup I devoted twenty minutes of every morning to and the chemicals and substances which, I believed, made me “pretty” and “enough,” were hurriedly tucked away to the bottom of my bin. The few mirrors here at base camp show me an old and familiar face that God always saw as beautiful and enough, mosquito bites, sunburns and all. I had cautiously tucked away that face full of childlike wonder and playful curiosity in the name of growing up. I bathe in the salty inlet, breathe in open and star-lit skies from my sleeping bag on the dock, and laugh at how very ridiculous it is to get frustrated over exactly 33 bags of skim milk powder. I cram my body on the floor of a crowded room to watch the first movie I’ve seen in a month, forget what a flushing toilet sounds like, and give thanks for a massive bowl of that rare vanilla ice cream. I wish I could save up enough of these moments to last the rest of my life.

My mind, even, has been freed from the shallow places I once anchored it to in order to keep it afloat in the busyness of life. The magnifying glass I once spent too much time under, the self I built up and hid behind to show my worth, has been kicked aside and traded out for a better view of others and of God. I’ve been able to dive deeper into what it means to be a follower of Jesus, what it really means for his redemptive love to wash over me, and what it really means to realize His sufficiency is more than enough for my inadequacies. I’m raw and flawed and human here because I’m allowed to be. Learning to set aside self-centered thoughts gives me the freedom to look more closely at others, flawed and human themselves, and love them better for it. I see the blistered feet of guides who walk kids along the mountainous horizons, the sore backs from raking trails, and the stress tears from food that never got shipped in. I’ve also seen the smiles that stretch around campers faces while guides sing and dance in goofy costumes at opening club. I’ve watched their eyes widen while “holy cow, another meal!” gets added to their already humongous backpack, and their nervous looks while gazing up at the mountain they’re told they can climb. It seems I’ve seen them expand and shrink in a paradox of growth here. Eyes grow, smiles widen, and faith expands while standing on the summit or in a small room called the “Pack Shack,” feeling smaller than ever before. In it all, God remains the same size, just a little clearer here, to them and to me.

-Madi Krueger